Say My Name

Ask me what my name is,

and I will say “It’s Asmaa.”

It’s not Asthma, It’s not Osama, and it’s definitely not Ass-ma.

I’m not the student that answered the question. I’m Asmaa.

I’m not the girl in your class with the hijab on. I’m Asmaa.

I’m not that one Muslim girl in our building. I’m Asmaa.

C’mon say it with me. Asmaa.

Smile a little when you say it. Asmaa.

Say the s just like in smile. Asmaa.

Say my name just like I do. Asmaa.

Say it like you know my name comes from “royalty”. Asmaa.

Say it like you know my name has a culture. Asmaa.

Say it like you know my name is historic. Asmaa.

Ask me to pronounce it a thousand times, and I will say it a million more,

As long as you show me that you want to say my name just like I do.

Since you've reached the end of this poem and are still scrolling down, I'm going to assume you're interested in knowing more and will give you a closer look into the meaning of this poem for me.

Ever since I was a kid, non-Arab and non-Muslim Americans have mispronounced my name to come up with various creative pronunciations that align with their own cultures. This resulted in the following mispronunciations (not an exhaustive list):

* Ass-ma

* Azma

* Asthma

* Asama

* Asmara (mostly a typo in emails, but still happens!)

* O-sama (my name doesn't even start with an O... sigh)

* Ace-ma

These mispronunciations are of the milder sort. And when they aren't mispronouncing my name, people tend to use third person references and pronouns to avoid saying my name -- and this is after I correct them several times. True story: I was once in a class where the professor was asking questions, and, being the hard-working student that I am, I raised my hand to answer the professor's question. After I answered, the professor was referring back to my answer by saying, "As Asama said..." I cut him off to correct his pronunciation and said, "Asmaa." The professor mispronounced again, I interrupted and corrected the pronunciation again. And then, it happened...

The professor looked at me, paused, looked at the rest of the class, and said, "As your fellow student said..."

For one thing, this just shows the amount of respect that this particular professor has for the students in his class. To dramatically pause as he did, to avoid even attempting to pronounce my name right, and to go on with that reference without an apology in regards to his mispronunciation of my name...

For another, he didn't put himself in my shoes and consider how important it was to me that he pronounce my name correctly. I genuinely believe that the professor would have been upset if I had mispronounced his name. How could I? The nerve of me to mispronounce his name when it was so easy to pronounce since, well, it was a common name, to say the least..

To those of you thinking, "It's just a name!" No, it is most definitely not just a name. My name is part of my identity, and a very significant one at that. My name has its own definition and culture, just like names tend to have. If names weren't so important, we wouldn't have named every single item we deal with on a daily basis.

For some items, names signify their function: toaster, makeup remover, light bulb, etc. For other items, names signify where they came from: jalapeños, duffel bags, denim, amongst others (Check out this Mental Floss article if you're interested in more items named after places they come from).

Even when it comes to our special items and our pets, we have names for them. For example, people have been naming their cars for decades. "Hey, don't touch Lola or you'll have to pay for the damage." And have you ever heard of a pet with no name? Even when you call it 'that dog' or 'that pet', you are still using a name (albeit a general, non-specific one) to refer to the living being that you are speaking about.

So how come when we are speaking of human beings, people just like us, we ignore the significance of the name that they identify with?

There's an Arabic saying that I absolutely love that goes like this:

لكل امرئ من اسمه نصيب

(Pronunciation: li-kolli im-ri-in min iss-muhu na-seeb)

This saying means that every person has a chunk of fate that is directly tied to the meaning of his or her name. Does your name mean royalty? You're destined to a percentage of that in your life. Does it mean happiness? You're destined to a percentage of that as well.

What I like most about this saying is that it makes people really think about the names that they give to their children when they first come into this world. Aside from that, it shows how important a person's name is and that we really shouldn't take it lightly when others mispronounce our names like it's nothing.

Here's a little something to think about as I bring this post to an end:

If people's -- or even items' -- names and their pronunciations weren't so important, why is the first question we ask almost always "Who/What is this?"